Redemption Day
by germanjunkiewhore
Summary: Four years seemed like a century for King Schultz as he followed her trail from east to west, and each time she managed to slip by without alerting him to her presence. This time around she wouldn't get away. Schultz/OC
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I – Men of Great

Django's dark orbs scanned the man from top to bottom.

Trust didn't come quite so easy to the former slave, and the fact that the man had stuck by him all this time and had not sold him out was saying much. The German didn't seem to flinch from his gaze and went about his business as though nothing was different. Eating from the metal tin cup, Schultz held the parchment in his other hand as his eyes thoroughly scanned the contents on its surface. At one point he raised his brow and muttered something under his breath all the while keeping his mood and tone jovial. Django scrapped the last of the beans from the tin, chewing its contents with little regard for the taste. Bland, though it was better than the slop he had at the former plantation. He unwillingly evoked the memories and harsh treatment back at the Carrucan plantation.

"You are quiet. Is something troubling you, Django?" He gazed up from looking at his fingers and found Schultz eying him with silent contemplation.

Django licked his lips and shook his head. "No. Just rememberin' somethin' is all."

"Ah, but often memories are what trouble the person." Schultz grinned and placed the parchment on his lap. "Seeing something over again tends to bring back nostalgia whether you want it to or not."

"Huh?" He felt lost whenever the dentist decided to use big words that were unfamiliar to him. No doubt Schultz was feeling quite at ease in his presence to even care.

"Oh, I apologize, Django. You are quite familiar with feelings, are you not?" When he nodded the man continued, pleased that Django was on the right track. "Well, it's the same thing. Nostalgia is feelings about an event that took place."

The former slave stared at him for some time before repeating, "Nuh-stall-ga. Is that how it is?"

Schultz's grin seemed to widen at that. "Yes, yes, yes that's correct. You are a fast learner I must say I'm impressed with the words you pick up and store in your brain. Very impressive, if only all men were as quick to learn as you are."

Some times Django didn't know whether or not the German was mocking him or offering praise; however, considering the fact that he went out of his way to teach him fancy words here and there he supposed it had to be the latter. He simply wasn't the type to feign kindness, and in fact Django had prompted as much when he asked him if he meant his words. "Lying is a coward's way out." So he took it as such and even made the attempt to right his mistrust of the man by doing little things in return for his hospitality.

"I happen to be in another bit of a situation that requires my full attention," Schultz began, placing the tin down beside him while clapping his hands together. "I have another bounty to claim. This one happens to be a larger sum than the brothers we are seeking, and this one happens to be problematic." He cleared his throat and absentmindedly ran his fingers through his salt and pepper whiskers. "I have ran into her once before but the little _critter_ managed to slip past me all the while stealing a horse. She is a tricky one but I'm afraid it's a challenge I cannot pass up. What do you say, Django?"

It took a while for him to process everything Schultz had said not to mention that he was confused as to why he was expressing such merriment for this bounty. It was a bounty with a large sum which only concluded that she had to be one dangerous outlaw, and despite that important fact he was treating quite differently from the rest.

Maybe the doc was in some way smitten by her. "She, huh?"

"Indeed," Schultz answered with a smile still in place. "I have actually parleyed with her twice before but the sneaky little jack rabbit always slipped by me unaware. This time, however, I fully intend to catch her and claim the nice little bounty over her pretty head."

"I never heard about no woman outlaw before." Django admitted with skepticism as his tone remained impassive.

Schultz's smile remained on his lips but it appeared as though it was one only _he_ understood. Like a secret he was keeping to himself. "I never quite believed it myself until I saw her in that saloon. Albeit she was dressed like a man, but once you were close enough you could tell. As I mentioned before I have been chasing her for some time now." He chortled and brought his hands apart. "But she's quite experienced at disappearing in thin air!"

It took a moment for Django to process this new information. It would be worth it to catch another bounty if only it was on the way to where they initially were going to go. Schultz wasn't prone to giving anything away, but he sensed that this bounty claimed his immediate interest. He didn't have to say it but somehow Django knew. It was then that the dentist picked up the parchment from his lap and showed it to him.

The sketch was simple enough; a pair of beady eyes, a handkerchief covering the bottom portion of the face with a cowboy hat sitting upon her head. In fact, she didn't even look like a woman with that handkerchief covering her face, and it probably explained why many were caught off guard once they found her. Below the sketch were letters in bold calligraphy but it took one look from him and Schultz was reading what it said.

"_Wanted_. Dead or Alive: _Sinclair_." He emphasized each word in order for Django to grasp the pronunciation of each word. "Many have gone after the chase but they continuously end up in a shallow grave."

"Why?"

Perhaps he should have known better than to ask such a question for Schultz's smile tilted in response. "They hesitate to shoot a woman no matter if she is dressed as a man. They attempt to take her in _alive_ and in turn the barrel of her rifle is pointed _right_ at them." Carefully, he folded the parchment and slid it inside the pocket of his gray vest. Then he offered Django another smile before placing his hands on his knees. "It is important that we go after her before we can be compromised by anything else. What do you say?"

Any other man would have taken it into careful consideration before they agreed. Django was the different sort when it came to this because there was nothing really left to contemplate. Schultz had said all there was to say on the matter, and if it brought them extra money in their pockets then who was he to pass up? Though perhaps they wouldn't have the need to kill the woman, and since they tended to be careful when they went out for the hunt it wouldn't get out of hand. At least he hoped so.

Django nodded. "Alright."

"Excellent! We'll leave first thing tomorrow to Careen County."

When all was said and done Django and King Schultz ate the remainder of their supper in shared silence. Once again Django went over the recent events that had transpired over the days. Winter was coming, and though it would mean he wouldn't be able to reunite with Hildi soon it would give him enough time to prepare for what lay ahead. When he glanced up he found Schultz staring at him with such fierce determination that Django was forced to take a moment of pause. Just as quickly the German gave him a nod which was a sign of an agreement being offered to the other man.

The freeman gave a small smile and nodded as the mutual agreement was struck between both parties.

* * *

_A/N: Off to a rocky start but I'm trying to make sure everything slides smoothly. I really enjoyed the movie, and this was the result. Hope you enjoyed! _


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II – Honey

It was clear to most that the stranger wandered in from out of town. Taking a seat at the bar he ordered himself a shot of whiskey, knowing full well the bartender wasn't inclined to refuse him. Not after he placed his shotgun on the counter with the barrel facing towards him. Roughly, he removed his hat and placed it beside his gun just as the bartender came back with his shot and the bottle.

"Leave the bottle here too," he demanded, "and get on your way."

The bartender complied with no resistance as he walked to the other end to refill the other gentleman's cup. He slid a hand through his short blonde hair and downed his drink in less than a second as the saloon continued on without disturbance. His beady eyes shifted from side to side as he took in the other patrons, trying to deduce their reason for being here. He tilted the whiskey bottle and drank one large gulp from the bottle.

The blast that he and his brothers had planted not only got the job done, but it also resulted in him flying back a few feet and landing on his ass. No doubt his bottom was still sore from landing on the dirt with a hard slam. Freddy and Tommy practically came away unscathed from the explosion, but as always it was Roger who got the short end of the stick. Just thinking of it made his side and ass throb in pain. He told himself on the way here that it was for the best. The family that had left on that desolate farm were dirt poor anyway, suffering through cold winters and harsh summers with little money for food. Hell if he thought about it long and hard he could say that he and his brothers did them a kindness. Besides, they shouldn't have taken the risk and sheltered the bitch. Didn't they know? She was a wanted criminal who Jacques Sinclair was paying big money to get rid of, and hell, didn't they see the goddamn wanted posters?

_Bunch of dirt poor suckers is what it is_, he thought, _we did them a kindness. _

Roger looked to his right and found that the person seated there was the only one who seemed out of place. They had a smaller frame then him, and were most likely shorter by at least a couple of inches. The hat obscured his view of their hair but the eyes were visible and fixed on their bottle of ale. Perhaps the most notable feature of their attire was the dark green scarf covering their face from the nose down.

He grunted, fixed himself on the stool, and turned back to find the other stranger staring at him impassively. "Where did you blow in from?" Roger Bogart asked shifting once again as the stranger used a finger to push the hat from his eyes.

With the scarf in place, the stranger spoke. "Louisiana, and yourself?" the voice was strangely familiar, but Roger couldn't pinpoint whether the stranger was a man or lady. For now he decided to settle on it being a man.

"Same, what part you from?"

The stranger's green eyes gleamed with mischief. "New Orleans. Was born and raised there as was my pa and his daddy. Been there for years." The stranger decided to open the top of the beer bottle while placing the rifle on the counter beside him.

Roger poured himself a third glass as his blue eyes were fixated on the man. Carefully he managed to pry off the top but didn't make a move to drink from it. "Why ya got yourself all covered up? Are you ugly or somethin'?" the shot glass reached his lips before the brown liquid flowed down his throat in a fury. He shook his head and licked his lips, tasting the remnants of that night. "Maybe your face is scorched. I'd pay money to see that."

Slowly the boundary line was becoming a blur before him as the pounding suddenly resumed in his head. His eyes were watery, his throat was on fire with the taste of whiskey lingering on his tongue as he tried to take control of his senses.

"My face is just fine," he replied, pulling down his scarf to reveal the lower half. "See? Mighty fine, but you don't look so hot." Without the scarf muffling the words Roger was able to see that he had been wrong in his assumption. His head had to be supported by his hand as he struggled to keep himself from becoming vulnerable.

Perhaps Tommy was right when he said that Roger couldn't handle his liquor. The effects of the alcohol were slowly beginning to cloud his mind, blinding him from his senses as he desperately fought to regain himself.

In the meantime the saloon was still loud with the sounds of men playing cards and women laughing. When Roger looked back at the stranger, he found that a woman had taken his place and she was too busy smiling in amusement as she reached for her rifle on the counter. The barrel found itself pointed at his belly, and her finger was curved protectively over the trigger.

"You shoulda made sure I was as dead as those people you murdered," she said, her tone firm as his hand fumbled for the pistol hanging on his hip. "Your dimwit brothers are next."

The last thing Roger felt was the overwhelming burning sensation in his abdomen, and when he looked down he found the blood pouring out of him. Hastily he tried to stop the bleeding with his hands, but it flowed through between his fingers as he began to panic. He didn't feel himself fly off the stool nor did he hear the screams that reverberating off the walls of the saloon. All he felt was the pain, and the never ending scorch of hell's fire in the pit of his stomach. Finally did he allow himself to scream in pain as the rifle was pointed at his head.

One final blast tore off a good chunk of his skull as bits of brain matter and bone flew everywhere. She could feel the bits landing on the front of her clothes; feel the blood splatter across her face in a messy array.

She heard the sounds of guns cocking as she gazed up. Immediately her eyes locked with the bartender's, and slowly she looked to see that seven more were pointed in her direction.

"You know what we do to killers here, girl?" Her eyes snapped to the one man in the far corner, dressed from head to toe in black as his shotgun was aimed for her chest.

She didn't make a move to drop her gun, and instead answered, "I did your job for you. He and his brothers were killers, alright."

The man in black moved towards her as the others kept their places with their guns cocked until he motioned to them with a single gesture to lay down their weapons. Hesitantly they complied as he came to a stop a good foot away from her. The corners of his lips tilted into a smirk before he nudged the body with his boot. Roger Bogart didn't stir from his makeshift grave, and so he reached out to personally unarm her. She took the moment to take in her surroundings, noticing the table to her left with no one occupying it.

His grin never faltered as he wrapped his fingers around the barrel of her gun. "We'll take the credit here, and by that I mean that we'll be getting your bounty, Sinclair." A nod, slow and easy was made in his direction just before she jabbed the barrel into his gut and grabbed his gun to turn it away from her person.

Everything seemed to move without time dictating as he squeezed the trigger just in time to blast the bartender. A shrill cry in the saloon was all it took to signal the erupting gunfire. Quickly, Sinclair spun the man around and used him as a shield as the oncoming bullets ripped through him in fast bouts of spurts. She managed to wretch his gun from his grasp all the while keeping him close as she slid the barrel of the shotgun under his arm. She pulled the trigger in two quick bursts just before she skidded off to the side.

Landing on her bottom hurt more than she initially thought, but she was able to overturn the table in the midst of the chaos. Hearing the clicks of the guns made her sigh in relief as she quickly grabbed her pistol. She was able to get in three shots before retreating back behind the table and letting out a string of curses all the while covering her head.

Bottles shattered, women screamed, and men grunted in pain before falling to the floor to drown in their blood. When Sinclair reached around the table she managed to shoot two more fellows dead on in the chest while nearly losing her ear as the seventh one shot at her.

She wasn't about to die like this; sweaty, still injured from her brush with death, and hiding behind a goddamn table. The empty casings fell to the floor as she placed the bullets into the chamber, one at a time.

When Justine Sinclair imagined death it would be in a shootout, but she would sooner be face to face with the son of a bitch than hiding and picking him off from there. Jacques had robbed her of a peaceful death in her sleep at an old age, just as he had robbed her of the one man that mattered most to her. He wasn't going to stay alive while she died first, she'd be damned to let that happen. He was hers to kill, hers to make suffer, and most certainly hers to exact vengeance.

She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice that the gunshots had seized. Her green eyes looked around the area, taking in the bodies lying motionless on the ground in pools of blood. With hesitance she leaned around to see if Lucky Seven was still alive, and much to her astonishment he had fallen to the floor as dead as they come. She supposed she was lucky that she had gotten into a shootout in a saloon known to be the local hotspot for desperados and murderers alike.

_I'm an outlaw too_; she thought without bitterness, _I wasn't forced to become one. I just happened to be one._

All she had to do now was grab her horse, Honey, and flee Careen County just as fast as she had rode in weeks ago. Nostalgia overcame her so suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere as she remembered nearly being caught in the fire. Though the farm was a mile away from the county it was still considered a part of it. Had she stayed inside the house one minute longer then she surely would have been a part of that massacre. The father, the mother, and both teenage girls died almost instantly in the wildfire and all Justine could do was run before the Bogart Brothers caught her.

Her pistol dropped to the floor as she leaned against the table with a bitter expression upon her features. Blaming herself for their deaths would do little now, and surely she couldn't go back and undo what had been done.

_They should've let me bleed out. They should've let me die on that road with Honey._

She couldn't recall how she had suddenly ended up on the floor with her pistol kicked out of her reach, nor could she understand just how he managed to get the slip on her with a foot pinning her right arm to the ground. Through clenched teeth she muttered a curse as her eyes followed the barrel of the rifle up before meeting his eyes. Sudden recognition caused her to let her head fall back on the ground, letting her auburn hair soak up the spilled liquor.

"I'll be damned."

King Schultz stood over her with a smug expression in place. "Hello again, _Fraulein_, I must admit that I am a man true to my word. I told you I would find you again, and here we are."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III - Sins

The first they had met was four years ago, though it was for a short period time she had come to know him during that time.

He caught her trying to outrun a county sheriff, deciding then to take matters into his own hands by reassuring the officer that he would take it from there. He had made it a point to exchange pleasantries with her as he tied her wrists together and even went as far as to help her up on the horse. Justine Sinclair had at first refused his courtesy since it had left a sour taste in her mouth. Many times she had planned ways to elude him, but he constantly found out. After about three days of traveling with each other back to Louisiana she finally gave in, explaining the situation to Schultz. Yes, she had executed that overseer with cruel intentions while also making it a point to do so in front of the slaves. Justine held no remorse, stating that she didn't care if she was caught.

That had been an lie.

With a twist of his mouth he had seemed to understand her situation, and the next day she woke up alone in the middle of the desert.

"Up, up, up we have a long and perilous journey back to the county in Louisiana." When she made no move to get up from the ground he signaled to someone and less than a second later she felt herself being lifted (rather forcefully) off the floor. "Careful, Django, I think our lady friend had sustain serious injuries, no doubt after her little spectacle here."

Justine looked behind her and was rather quite surprised to see a black man standing behind her. With a raise of her brow she turned back to Schultz and said, "Who's your boy?"

"This gentleman behind you is Django Freeman and he is my new partner in the business of collecting bounties."

"Business," she replied, a deadpan expression in place as she shrugged out of Django's grasp.

Schultz nodded and bent down to retrieve her gun, taking that as a window of opportunity she gathered most of her strength and used her shoulder to knock him aside. She ran out of the saloon, managing to nearly stumble over the bodies while also trying to avoid the large puddles of liquor and blood.

Justine didn't care for all she was worried about was getting up on Honey and riding out of there without a glance back. Grabbing onto the saddle she forced herself up when hands suddenly seized her by the waist, and with one forceful tug she was pulled down from the horse. The shear pain overwhelmed her once she hit the ground, clenching her teeth did little to ease it as she rolled over onto her side.

Honey grunted in response before she heard the soft shush that would calm her. "There, there, girl, your master is all right." Justine struggled to sit up, still dazed from the fall as the pain slowly crept up her side in spurts of discomfort.

She tentatively placed a hand on her left side while Django once again helped her up from the ground. With one hand outstretched she placed it on Honey's mane trying to ease the animal back into a state of calm.

Schultz came up to her side, reached out to move her hand away, and was met with her fingers digging into her flesh while he 'tsked' with a click of his tongue. "It was a dramatic move but I am afraid it was necessary, Fraulein. You should already expect such from me after the time we spent together." His tone vexed her to no end simply because he seemed to find it amusing that she would dare do such a thing. Then again, why had Justine even considered it?

_Because I'm a stubborn fool with an unbelievable goal._

Slowly he tried once more to remove her hand and this time he was met with compliance. Blood was seeping through her tunic, staining it a deep copper color as he inspected it.

"Ya got me," she said exasperated. "Ya gonna take me back a third time to Louisiana?" Schultz merely hummed in response as he lightly tapped the wound, eliciting a flinch from her as he stood upright. Once more he motioned to the freed man who in turn grabbed her arms and forced her hands behind her back..

The thick rope bounded her wrists together further preventing her from trying to steer her horse away should she think to do so on the journey back. By this time, the residents of Careen County were watching the scene take place as the soft murmurs and hate-filled glares cut through her resolve. But she shook her head and ignored them. In some way, however, she knew that this was entirely her fault. She had the open window to walk out the moment Roger Bogart entered. She could have been on the road out by now without the worry of them coming after her. Bogart deserved it, and the people in the saloon could have found themselves a way out of it by leaving her be. They didn't understand how dangerous he was and what atrocities he had done to get to his status.

Bitterly she assumed that King Schultz would return her to the plantation without the knowledge of what Jacques would do to her. He and his freeman would be on their way for the winter without a second glance back. And suddenly those images of the nights by his fire, listening to him tell her of his motherland were replaced with her inevitable death.

She would never see him again. Anger began to seep into her every pore as she thought back on Jacques's last words to her, an attempt to scare her as her hands curled into fists at the realization.

**_You'll come back one day, sweet sister, and I'll be waiting with a noose especially for you right beside your dead n—_**

"You will have little to worry about, sheriff. I will personally escort her back to Louisiana's justice system so that she may await her punishment." Justine glanced up and found that he was talking to the sheriff of Careen County. Quite casually he added, "Your distresses will soon be terminated."

The sheriff stood at a over 6 feet tall with brown hair covered by a white ten-gallon hat. He seemed slightly younger than the dentist, but was perhaps a year or two older than her. "Now hold on just a minute. Sinclair came into our county and caused all this mayhem. She's gonna get the good ol' Careen County punishment." His declaration was met with bursts of cheer from the townsfolk as he raised a hand to settle the commotion. "We could use her bounty for our town. You and your n—"

"I apologize for interrupting you, Sheriff..." "Eastwood."

"Yes, Sheriff Eastwood, as I was saying this ruthless vermin is wanted in two other states but her bounty is far larger should she be returned to Louisiana." Schultz walked over towards her and jabbed a finger just half an inch above wound, causing her to shriek in pain. "I have come up empty in my pursuit for these last four years and finally I have her now. My partner Django and I will be returning this cruel woman to Louisiana where she will be met with a noose around her pretty neck and from there we will be free of this criminal and her enterprises." He ended his explanation with a smile while Sheriff Eastwood and company looked on in stunned silence.

After a moment the sheriff took a step forward with his lips pursed as he attempted to challenge the dentist. "Now hold on just a minute. I'm not letting ya'll off the hook after she just massacred nearly everyone in this here saloon. We got a noose for her right here in our town." His eyes snapped to hers as she tensed from his gaze. "And we'll let her corpse hang right next to the sign to warn the other would be desperados."

Justine merely kept her face blank and free of any emotion as her green orbs remained on him. It seemed as though the sheriff wouldn't let himself be robbed of the opportunity to hang a criminal. The idea would have been amusing if it were a fella in her place.

Schultz turned to look at her to which she raised an eyebrow in response. Turning back he had a smile in place as he shrugged. "As I am sure that idea is appealing to you and your residents I simply must disagree and insist she be brought back to the state in which her bounty had been issued first. I strongly advise you to wire the judge to confirm this." Slowly he reached into his pocket just as Sheriff Eastwood placed a hand over the butt of his gun. "I will show you the bounty." Hours seemed to pass as he carefully removed the folded parchment from the inside of his vest.

Justine looked over at Django and found that he had a hand tentatively on his pistol as well. She was standing in front of him, convenient if another shootout were to happen. The parchment was exchanged between the two men as the sheriff looked over its contents while occasionally looking over at her as if to fit the description.

He then crumbled the paper, tossed it at Schultz's feet, and said, "Get out my town and don't you dare come back this way."

Django took it upon himself to hoist her up on Honey while grabbing the reins. Schultz removed his hat, bowed, and picked up the crumbled ball before making his way towards his cart and horse.

Fifteen minutes later she found herself riding along in between the bounty hunters with the reins firmly in Django's steel-like grip. Perhaps if she had half a mind to she would have taken the reins and rode off, but no doubt Schultz would expect such a move from her behalf and wouldn't hesitate to shoot her horse. Thankfully, she loved honey far too much to even consider putting her in danger.

Her eyes turned to the free man, scanning him from top to bottom with an impassive gaze as she tried to figure out why he was there. King Schultz wasn't a cruel man, and perhaps he came across the former slave and decided to buy his freedom just for the hell of it.

"You keep starin' at me white girl and we're gonna have a problem."

Justine smirked and straightened her back as she shifted in the saddle. "Can you blame a girl for not being used to seeing a black man on a horse?"

Django turned to her with an expressionless stare. "You never seen no black man before?"

"Not on a horse and not in the bounty huntin' business either." This time she turned to Schultz. "What did you do to free him?"

"You are in no position to ask such questions, _Fraulein_." It was a casual response almost as if they were holding a conversation, but she could hear the underlying tone of solemnity hidden in his words. "He is a free man."

By the time the sun went down they had come across a clearing in between an assortment of boulders. She had been helped down from Honey by both men, had her wounds bandaged by the doctor, and was then tied from ankles to wrists to prevent her escape. The whole time Schultz remained quiet towards her, but made the effort to assure she was comfortable under the circumstances. That night they ate a supper of pork beans and bread with water to wash it all down with. To add further insult to injury he had taken it upon himself to spoon feed her the entire time, and each time she glared at him as he shoved the helping into her mouth.

After some time she turned her head before she said, "Just untie my goddamn hands."

Schultz pulled back and inspected her for a moment before offering a haughty reply. "And risk you attempting to get away? We have played that game before." Django's eyes looked up from staring into the fire as he was easing the spoon towards her mouth. "I assure you it is entirely personal that you are tied up."

She cocked her head back towards him with a deadpan expression in place. "You like seein' me tied up?"

"Now you are misconstruing my words." He chortled. "No, I am accountable for you. If you were to leave and take your beautiful horse with you then I would be entirely at fault."

"I seem to recall that it didn't stop ya before."

His eyes held her own for a long moment seeming as if to pierce through her with fierce tenacity. Justine considered saying something else but at that moment he merely shrugged and went back to his supper as though she hadn't said anything at all.

"What are ya takin' me in for anyway? You can't blame me for that shootout."

When Schultz turned to look at her it was with a raised eyebrow that challenged her to change her mind. "So, you did not partake in that shootout by raising your gun first and shooting a man in the belly?" Her eyes diverted to the fire, watching the flames licking the logs away as Django leaned back against the rock. Their gazes locked for a brief moment before she turned to the fire once more. "You know why I am returning you to Louisiana."

Of course she knew that was the reason. She was tempted to commit another crime just to avoid it all together, though in the end she supposed that it wouldn't matter. He was taking her back to the plantation, and sooner or later she would be seeing that face after twenty years. Along the way Justine had hoped to build up enough courage to finally put a bullet between those eyes of his. The first time around she was close enough to her goal, but ultimately it was her lack of courage that led to her first near brush with death. She had been so close, so close in fact that he was mere feet away with his back to her and it was there that a bullet had lodged itself into her side from one of the Bogart brothers.

It was when Justine was on the verge of death that she came across him in the first place.

Remorse was a foreign feeling to her, and she would be damned if she let herself feel that way now. "You can return me alright, but don't you think for one goddamn second that I'll stick around. I'm gonna find him and I'm gonna kill him."

Both Schultz and Django exchanged looks before it was eventually Django who asked, "Who you talkin' about?"

Justine's lips tilted into a smile as she looked at the doctor from the corner of her eyes. "You know who. I told ya when we first met." So lost was Django that he kept his stare going from her to his new partner.

With a smile of his own Schultz gave a small nod as his face grew pensive from the memory. "He is the very man who is paying for your bounty personally. Jacques Sinclair." His tone was merry as he made the connection, judging by his expression he also seemed to be quite amused at the fact. "You never did specify what he did to make you harbor such feelings of animosity toward him."

"Hold on a minute," Django interrupted, turning to Justine. "He related to you?"

The outlaw nodded while carefully lying on her side by the fire. "He's my brother. Older brother as a matter of fact, we're only seven years apart him and me—he's forty-six by the way. The bastard did me wrong that day when he decided to pin that on me." She nearly choked on the words, her voice grew wistful at the memory she had been concealing to herself all these years. The mere mention of it brought back the dark night; the smell of blood evident in the air, those eyes staring straight through her as if she was nothing. Quite quickly it happened that she had barely enough time to take it all in.

Django leaned forward ready to press more on what she was keeping to herself but it was Schultz who stopped him from doing so. The other man merely waved his hand (as though he was swatting away a fly) and shook his head.

Justine grew quiet as the memories from that night played in her mind, and not once did she stir away from the flames.


End file.
